


You can't blame me for hating it

by weirdstrangebeing



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: A Little Less Sixteen Candles A Little More "Touch Me" (Video), Vampire Pete Wentz, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2020-03-05 23:19:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18838828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weirdstrangebeing/pseuds/weirdstrangebeing
Summary: Another A Little Less Sixteen Candles AU, set right after the video.Patrick has woken up confused, thirsty, wounded and not to mention hatless. He can't find his friends, who've been arrested and held at the police station. All he knows is, nightime Chicago is not a good place to be nowadays.





	1. Death's seen a double bed

  
The police car smelt of beer and blood and puke. This was what Pete was immediately aware of as he came to. It wasn't the first time he had been in one, but it was the first after he had been turned and he had to say it was _far_ worse.  
All Pete could see outside were vampires, though that was obvious. Chicago at night? Worse than the fucking Hellmouth. At least he wasn't an ugly motherfucker like the vampires in Buffy. All jokes aside, Pete was handcuffed in the back of a police car with two vampire cops and no idea if his friends were alive or dead.

 

Patrick woke up in the back of an alley with a dry throat, no hat and bites in his neck. He stumbled out of the alleyway, feeling exposed without his trusty cap. It was still dark outside, which was good because if Patrick had any idea what was going on, he did not want to be in daylight any time soon. He searched the abandoned street for Joe, Pete or Andy, or even any of the vamps from earlier, but no luck. Just the corpses, Patrick and the police tape. Suddenly, he was hit with a realisation; if the police had been here, that means his friends (as well as the vampires) had been arrested and probably at the police station. Now the only problem was getting there on time.

The cells in the police station were dark, dank and smelt of piss. Joe had been sat in there for almost an hour, staring at the wall waiting for an officer or lawyer or something: where was his phone call even? He knew that Andy and Pete at least imprisoned with him, Patrick not so much. Andy, who was in the cell next to him, seemed to be sawing at the bars. How he hadn't been discovered, only he knew, same as how he even got the blade in there. Overall, a pretty lousy atmosphere for a Friday night with two friends in prison and one missing. At least Andy seemed to have some kind of plan.


	2. I'm not the desperate type

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from 7 Minutes In Heaven (Atavan Halen).  
> Prison breaks, iffy lock mechanism knowledge, introspection and heavy shade on (in-universe) Chicago  
> Disclaimer: I'm not American and have never been to Chicago, so I'm very sorry about any and all discrepancies.

Andy didn't have a plan. He was sawing at the bars and making headway, sure, but he didn't think that would work when he began, so that was really just the fault of the shitty police department. At least he wasn't bait or anything like that, but the way that his 'plan' was going, they wouldn't be able to escape until daytime, which for Pete would be like going out of the frying pan and into the fire, literally.  
Andy's eyes were drawn to the lock on the cell door. How had he not noticed that earlier? _Of course_ the door had a fucking regular lock. That would be fairly easy to pick, assuming that no-one would notice his arm sticking through the bars sticking a sword in a lock and jiggling it around, but with how he had been able to saw at the bars,the police on duty were either dead or dead stupid.

"Hey!" A voice that sounded like Joe stage-whispered from the next cell over.

"Andy what the fuck are you doing?" Definitely Joe.

" _Shut up_ Joe, I'm busy" He hissed, unable to concentrate on anything other than the task at hand. Finally, he jarred the right spot and the door was unlocked. Andy slowly pushed the door open. Now what to do about the others...

The orange light of the street lamps was terrible at illuminating the scenery for Patrick's thirst-addled brain. He was considering going back to 'headquarters' to go and get a drink since he didn't have any money on him, but then he remembered that no one else was in a position to get his friends out of prison, or wherever they were. But fifteen minutes wouldn't hurt, right? _Just one drink_. Anyway the glorified scout hut was actually way closer than the police station. It wouldn't be much harder to walk there and then go rescue his friends after catching a bus or something. Patrick twisted around and began to stroll in the general direction of the Sixteen Candles' 'headquarters'. This would also help him in the fact that he had left his wallet there, which probably wouldn't help him pay bail, though in Chicago you never know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a long time to write and I'm not really happy about it, but I figured short, vaguely shitty chapter would probably be better than none for months on end.  
> Also, to Honestmouse and that one guest, thanks for leaving kudos!


	3. I found the cure to growing older

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (it's vampirism)

If someone had told Pete a year ago that he would be turned into a vampire shortly after forming a hunting agency (at least that was what they were calling it) and got arrested after a large gang fight with fucking _vampires_ \- including the one who turned him in the first place - he would have said "what the fuck are you smoking and where can I get some of that?"  
Unfortunately for Pete, there was nothing to smoke: this was just his life now (or unlife). He was on the run from the law with his partners-in-crime, searching for their other friend, Patrick, who may or may not be dead. Patrick had always said he was a drama queen and here Pete was, proving him right.

They'd decided to go back to the Punks' territory to check if Patrick ~~(or his corpse)~~ was still in the alleyway where Andy had seen him last before he was floored by vamps. It was a mess, cordoned off by police and splattered with vampire blood. The alleyway itself was narrow and while it stank like a particularly wild college party, it also had a dark puddle that appeared to be half dry and smelt of Patrick. _'Patrick's blood'_ Pete realised _'with this amount of blood loss he shouldn't be far away. In fact, he should be_ dead' 

"If he isn't here he can't be far." Andy voiced their thoughts. "Or he's been turned" the words spilt from Pete's mouth before he even realised what he was saying. It was true. Patrick was either dead or undead and Pete couldn't decide what was worse. "We could help him like we helped you, right Pete?" Joe's voice, optimistic and happy as ever, had an edge of desperation that Pete didn't think he'd ever heard before, consciously at least. "It's not that simple," Andy, who was the most knowledgeable on vampires besides from Patrick, began to explain. "The formula that Patrick devised might not work on a fledgling like Patrick. Pete was a vampire who drank human blood for a good four months before Patrick found the first version." Joe looked slightly perturbed by this, while Pete was concerned about how the formula might not even work on him in the future. Patrick had been working on adjustments to accommodate for Pete's growing bloodlust, which increased with every time he decided to drink Patrick's mixture instead of the blood his vampiric body needed. That was why he was so irritable and the reason they had to find Patrick soon - before he became dangerous; before his friends died.

A lone man walked carelessly down an alleyway. He was dressed in layers of cheap fabric, his haircut unremarkable with dark hair cropped a centimetre or two away from the scalp and thick sideburns, which made him look like a wannabe Gallagher. It was obvious that he wasn't from around there by the fact that he was out so late after sunset, or even out after dark in general. Patrick was inexplicably drawn to this stranger, the strange thirst he had felt since he woke up draining into a hunger to a level Patrick had never felt before. It blocked out his his surroundings and made him focus only on the man ten metres away. Maybe if he hadn't chosen to go to Chicago, a city overrun with vamps, he would've loved. In another universe he might've achieved his dream, become a DJ. This isn't that universe.

Patrick lunged at him with a speed he didn't know he possessed and tacked the man to the ground. There wasn't even time to process the man's yells and protests before he was biting down on his jugular and drinking down the blood that spurted out freely like a morbid fountain. It was ambrosia; it was the best thing that Patrick had ever tasted. The coppery warm liquid was salty, but with an unexpected sweet edge. It flowed down his throat and eased the dryness that had been present. He was so caught up in quenching his thirst - easing his hunger - that he didn't notice the body falling limp underneath him. Nor did he realise the presence of his friends at the light end of the alley.

"... Patrick?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry to the people who actually want to read this, but summer was spent doing who fucking knows what and I just wasn't motivated you know. I don't really have any excuses.  
> I'm giving thanks to my girlfriend for being lovely. It has nothing to do with the chapter I just love her. Also my friends for not looking for my ao3. Thanks for that otherwise I may die of introvert.  
> Tell me if you like the extra length because I might make an effort to keep it up or tell me of I made any obvious fuck ups

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first actual fanfiction, and I'll add more tags as I go along to match the story.  
> Chapter title from The (After) Life of The Party
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> (I might have written this while watching Buffy so there's a few references)


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